


Close for Comfort

by commodorecliche



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Clothed Sex, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Emotional Support, Grinding, Kissing, Love, Lovers, M/M, Mild Angst, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Sexual Content, Softness though, Tenderness, True Love, Unrequited Love, lotta softness, mutual care, the season 3 reunion we deserved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 01:50:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13261092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commodorecliche/pseuds/commodorecliche
Summary: After somehow managing to escape the clutches of the Galra for a second time, and just barely making it back to the team alive, Shiro has a lot of healing to do. It's only once he's back on board the ship that he realizes just how close he came to not surviving this time around. Keith is so happy to have Shiro back and only wants to close the distance that seems to have grown between them over the course of this war. Back in the privacy of Shiro's bedroom, they must come to terms with what all has happened and must remember that they will always be there for each other.





	Close for Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> GAH, I am so sorry I'm a day late with this! But this is my Sheith Secret Santa piece for Tiff ([tiff-the-little-wanderer](http://tiff-the-little-wanderer.tumblr.com/)/[wandering_tiff](https://twitter.com/wandering_tiff)) who requested: _The Sheith reunion in between s3e5 and s3e6 that I deserve. With some comfort and healing, as well as Shiro coming to terms with fact that he survived and that he's still alive despite how dangerously close he was to death._
> 
> This is absolutely the Sheith reunion you deserve, Tiff! The reunion we all deserve, tbh o(╥﹏╥)o. So I really hope you enjoy this and that this is what you were hoping to see! Happy Christmas!
> 
> (Also, mad props to pilindiel for being my beta on this piece!! you're an angel, doll.)

**::**

Shiro looks pale in the dim light of the castle bedroom. Far paler than he ever used to look; paler still than he’d been when he’d first crashed back to Earth all that time ago. Torture and deprivation will do that to a person, Keith supposes. 

Looking at him now, Keith can’t see any new bruises or scars. Shiro’s in an old tanktop, his legs are covered by the blankets. Keith knows that not being able to see the injuries doesn’t mean they aren’t there. The first time Shiro returned home from the hands of the Galra, he came back without his arm, without the pigment in his hair, and with a barely-healed wound across his nose. And those were just the injuries he could see at a glance. It was only later, in the privacy of Keith’s bedroom, that he saw the true extent of the injuries lurking beneath Shiro’s prison garb. God only know what injuries are hiding beneath his clothing this time. 

It turns Keith’s stomach just to think about it.

He can’t help but notice how much more reserved Shiro is this time around, as well. Withdrawn, uneasy, all but hiding in the isolating darkness of his bedroom. There’s trauma hidden in the lines of his face - painful thoughts and emotions he’s hoping to hide in the creases of his eyes, in the quiet of the room. But Keith sees it - he’ll always see it - and all he wants is for Shiro to confide in him. The silence that exists between them is more than Keith has ever had to handle, and he isn’t sure what to do. 

He crosses his arms across his chest - protective, nervous - but dares a step further into the room. A step closer to Shiro. He doesn’t say anything, not yet at least. 

The two of them have barely spoken since Shiro’s return, anyway. Keith has been working a lot with the others, trying like hell to lead a team he’d never wanted to lead in the first place. Shiro has been recovering. It’s only been a day since their reunion but it feels like longer. It feels like months of absence and miles of distance between them, between the door and the bed, between Keith’s body and Shiro’s. 

It’s unbearable, so Keith takes another step closer. 

“Keith?” Shiro asks - his voice is a timid break in the silence. 

“Yeah?”

“How… how many times are you going to have to save me before this is over?” 

Keith drags a hand across the nape of his neck and shrugs - because what kind of question is that? 

“As many times as it takes,” Keith tells him. And he means it. 

This room, this castle, this world, this universe - it pales in comparison to Shiro and always will. Their home could burn, the earth alight in a blaze, the stars fiery and dying as the universe goes up in flames, and Keith would still claw his way through time and space to find Shiro again. 

As many times as it takes: he hopes Shiro expects no less,  _ hopes _ for no less, from him. 

He inches forward and tries to ignore the way Shiro shifts beneath the sheets in discomfort. He’s in pain - physical or emotional, Keith isn’t sure - but the disquiet is there nonetheless. 

Keith just wants to be close to him again. 

He’s never enjoyed feeling so far away from Shiro - and every awkward step forward is a step he feels might close the distance that has grown between them. 

Keith chuckles - uneasy and nervous like a teenager trying to find his words around his date - and moves to stand at Shiro’s bedside. He reaches a hand out to fiddle with the long strands of hair that frame Shiro’s face. Shiro doesn’t flinch or move away when he touches him and Keith counts that as a good sign. Keith strokes it, fingers idling across the lengthy strands, before tucking it behind Shiro’s ear. 

“It’s long,” Shiro says, almost in defeat, like he’s ashamed of it. 

It’s evidence of time spent away, time spent with barbarism and savagery. 

“I could cut it for you,” Keith suggests, taking a chance to tuck another errant piece behind Shiro’s ear, revealing more of his face, “if you want.” 

“That… that would be nice…”

Keith lets his hand linger, his fingertips tentative around the shell of Shiro’s ear, palm uneasy as it aches to cradle Shiro’s jaw. But Shiro doesn’t stop him or move away; he allows Keith to touch, to falter and dawdle a millimeter from his face, allows him to wait for whatever touch he can earn. 

Once upon time, they’d called themselves lovers. A time long before war, before kidnapping and imprisonment, before abandonment. Long before the two of them had to abandon the salad days of their youth and trade it in for the burden of bloodshed. 

Shiro inhales a long breath and sighs, tilting his head just so into Keith’s palm. He nuzzles into the warmth of Keith’s hand, the stubble on his chin catching slightly against the fabric of Keith’s gloves. 

God almighty, how he has missed this. The touch of Keith, the smell of fabric and skin and life that lives upon him. Shiro has missed this, with every aching fiber of his being, he’d longed to have just a sliver of this intimacy again. So he nuzzles his face into Keith’s hand, he breathes in the scent he had thought he’d forgotten.

Trembling, Shiro lifts his hand and lets it cover Keith’s against his cheek. He holds Keith’s palm against his skin as firmly as he can. The movement, whether Shiro intends it to or not, draws Keith closer, pulling him in so he’s flush against the edge of Shiro’s bed. 

Shiro doesn’t have to ask him. A gentle twitch of his fingers and a slight downward shift of his eyes, gesturing towards the mattress are the only signals Keith needs. Keith eases down to sit next to him, making sure his hand doesn’t break its contact with Shiro’s face. 

“I just wanted to be home,” Shiro whispers. His gaze falters to the bed, head slumped away from Keith. But Keith doesn’t let him go. 

“I never stopped looking, you know?” Keith tells him. He ducks his head down, trying to meet Shiro’s eyes, but they make an effort to avoid him. 

Keith wants to pretend it doesn’t sting - but he can’t lie to himself. The avoidance is a grim reminder of the space that exists between them now. Keith doesn’t know how to bridge that distance, doesn’t know how to close the gap. But it doesn’t mean he’ll stop trying. 

_ As many times as it takes.  _

“I thought I was dead…” Shiro whispers, “When I saw the Lions… I thought  _ I made it. I’m home. I’m going to be okay. _ ” 

Shiro’s face brightens as he says it, reliving the hope he must have felt at the sight of his comrades so close to him. But in the next instant, his face falls, the expression stutters, faint optimism replaced with melancholy.

“But then you all pulled away… And I couldn’t catch up. I knew that was it, that it was over. That is, until you showed up.”  

Keith doesn’t know what to say - doesn’t know how to explain the sickening twist in his stomach when he thinks of how he failed Shiro, how they’d been so close and he hadn’t sensed it. How he’d left Shiro behind, alone in the vastness of space to rot. Keith can’t imagine the hopelessness of seeing their Lions pull away at the last minute, of watching his only hope leave him behind as light and life faded from his eyes. Keith doesn’t know hot to explain his failure and it rends him, a twisting, grueling knot in his gut.

Keith wants to speak - and he searches for the words as long as he can, but he comes up bare. There’s nothing he can say now to make things better, to erase everything Shiro has endured, the trials and tribulations he suffered all because Keith couldn’t keep a tighter hold on him. So Keith doesn’t speak. 

Unthinking, he ducks his head forward and steals Shiro’s lips in a kiss. 

Their lips purse together, chaste, quiet. Uneven and plush, they push together out of need, out of urgency. Keith knows he should break this; knows he should back away and give Shiro the space he needs, but he can’t. Because how long has it been since they’ve properly known each other like this, felt each other, remembered each other? Two months? Four? A year? A goddamned eternity? They haven’t shared this tender affection since they left Earth, since they first became entangled in a war they knew could cost them their lives. 

It’s been too long, and they both know it. 

So they kiss. 

Soft. Sad. Delicate. 

But they kiss. They kiss like they haven’t kissed in ages - and they haven’t. Keith can’t remember the last time this feeling has touched his mouth. Can’t remember the last time he felt Shiro’s stubble, tasted his lips, smelled his skin. 

He shudders a breath out through his nose, quivering, uneasy, but he turns the affection with the same fervor Shiro gives him. 

Urgent. Wanting. Needful. 

Keith angles his body a bit more towards Shiro - not enough to invade, but enough to announce that his presence wants for closer company - and whether he expects it or not, Shiro accepts the intrusion in kind. His hand, his galra hand of hardened metal that was never meant to be tender, touches Keith’s face.  He strokes it, loves it, uses it to urge Keith closer as their mouths open to one another, and Keith melts, surrendering to its comfort. 

Quiet groans flit through the room. They’re nigh-silent noises that exist only on their breathy sighs, on their whimpers and needful moans as they press closer together, desperate for contact they haven’t felt in ages. Touch-starved and aching for more, Keith tries not to rush, but there’s little solace to be found in inaction. His hands are urgent as they move to cup Shiro’s face. Their heads tilt, mouths opening and tongues touching, and Keith angles his body more fully into Shiro’s. 

His movements are full of want but still careful - always giving Shiro enough time to process them, to accept or reject. But Shiro accepts him at every turn. Keith scoots further onto the mattress, turning his body so he can get his knees underneath him and crawl closer to Shiro. Keith doesn’t break their kiss as he moves, and Shiro seems equally unwilling to part with him, pulling Keith closer until he’s all but on top of him. 

Shiro’s hands slip from his face to his waist, trailing soft and sure down his neck, his shoulders, his back, his sides, before finding their grip on the sharp lines of Keith’s hip bones. Shiro’s thumbs dig into the hardened muscles there, his lips are wordless as his hands urge Keith onward to climb on top of him and straddle him. 

Keith only breaks the kiss because he must. He strips himself of his jacket, tossing it on the floor without care as he closes back in and swings his leg across Shiro’s lap. Keith folds himself over him, keeping their bodies close. He dips downs for another kiss and presses his hips down with a tentative thrust. 

“Is this okay?” Keith’s lips brush against Shiro’s as he speaks. Their chests are pressed flush together, and Keith doesn’t miss the way Shiro’s heart in pounding beneath his breast. Keith keeps his voice hushed, low and gentle in the stillness of the bedroom. 

“Yes,” Shiro hisses back, frantic, needful hands gripping Keith’s waist even harder to hold him in place, “Don’t go…” 

Shiro is hard beneath him - the need he’s feeling punctuated by the tentative upward roll of Shiro’s pelvis into Keith’s. Keith huffs out a whimper and nods, rubbing his own groin down into Shiro’s to remind Shiro he’s right here with him. Keith keeps himself close when he claims Shiro’s mouth again, his elbows pressed on either side of Shiro’s head. He cages him in, walls him off, steals him away from the world outside that might seek to take him, to tear them apart. 

He threads his fingers into Shiro’s hair, idly plays with the strands, fingertips massaging into Shiro’s scalp, as he rolls his hips down into Shiro’s once again. Shiro rips his mouth from Keith’s with a groan. His head lolls back into his pillows and his arms encircle Keith more fully. One hand flat against the small of Keith’s back, he guides Keith onward, pushing with rhythm to urge Keith’s hips to continue their motions. 

“Oh…” Shiro whimpers as Keith obliges his wordless commands for more contact.

Keith peppers open-mouthed kisses along the angle of Shiro’s neck, dots the camber of his throat with warm, wet affection. Teeth just barely graze Shiro’s skin as Keith continues to grind his still-clothed pelvis against Shiro’s. It isn’t as close as he wants to be, but in their desire and desperation for contact, for comfort, it’s more than enough. 

“I missed you, god Keith, I fucking missed you…” Shiro groans and presses his temple against Keith’s. There’s sweat forming there, heat and urgency building up in their movements. Shiro breathes heavily into his ear and Keith is panting just as hard.

“I’m here,” Keith huffs. His voice is unsteady, belabored by the frenetic grinding of their hips, mired with urgent need. 

Shiro lifts his head off the pillow, biting at first along the length of Keith’s neck, only stopping as he reaches the collar of his shirt. When he can no longer taste Keith’s skin, he opts instead to bury his face into Keith’s shoulder. His fingers curl at the base of Keith’s spine and shuck up his shirt so he can touch the soft skin there. Shiro’s other hand inches downward, resting gentle but firm along the curve of Keith’s ass. His forehead pressed against Keith’s shoulder, he urges him to grind harder, faster, and Keith knows he’s getting close. 

Keith is, too. He threads his arm under Shiro’s shoulders, cradling him close, holding him tight against himself as he thrusts down into him. 

Their movements are more uneven than they were a moment ago, their breath more ragged, but they persist. 

“I’m here,” Keith groans again, just so Shiro doesn’t forget. So Shiro cannot slip away. He clutches at him, holds him hard against his shoulder as he buries his own face into Shiro’s neck. 

He feels Shiro start to shudder, body tensing in Keith’s arms, and Keith knows he’s on the edge. 

“Keith,” Shiro whimpers - and it’s almost a plea. It’s not just passion - it’s need. It’s need for comfort, for support, for love. For a reminder that Keith is there, will always be there, and will protect him so long as he lives. 

“Shiro, I’m here. Let it out…” 

Shiro quakes beneath him - a long, low groan on his lips as he comes. Keith just a moment behind, Shiro’s name spilling from him as he climaxes. 

In the afterglow, Shiro’s grip on him loosens but he doesn’t let go. His head relaxes back into the pillows, long hair strewn across the sheets. Keith keeps his face buried in Shiro’s neck, trailing soft kisses up and down the skin he finds there. 

All that’s left in the quiet of the bedroom is their breathing, their heavy heartbeats, and the growing sense of calm. 

Keith nuzzles his face against Shiro’s neck and heaves a low sigh. 

“I’m here…” Keith tells him again. 

Shiro wraps his arms around Keith more fully, holding him tight in his embrace as his breathing grows calmer.

Shiro nods. 

“I know.” 

**::**

**Author's Note:**

> Ta-da! Thank you guys for reading! 
> 
> If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a comment. I thrive on your feedback and would appreciate it so much (and I will also send you flowers). <333
> 
> Y'all are wonderful! 
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr](https://commodorecliche.tumblr.com) and on [twitter](https://twitter.com/commodorecliche).


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